


aroused bawds in a 18th Century AU (straight from queer concentrate)

by aestheticrevolucion, psychedelicbubblegum



Series: queer concentrate [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: 18th Century AU because why not, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fameblue, Fluff without Plot, Georgian Period, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Weird Plot Shit, You best believe your BDSM ninja warriors are back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestheticrevolucion/pseuds/aestheticrevolucion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum
Summary: This is no mere fairytale. There are no princesses. No knights in shining armor. Murder, rape, and corruption reign in Versailles, and it is no place for normal, innocent women. Fortunately for Tia, Gia, and Bean, none of them are normal. And they’re nowhere near innocent.





	1. prologue

Once upon a time- I’m awfully sorry, but that is no way to begin this story. This is no mere fairytale. No frills. Since I intend to tell it precisely how it was, I suppose I’d have to start at the beginning. The year was seventeen-ninety-nine. The revolution laid waste to all of France, and the last of the nobility dwindled and scattered. Six weeks until Christmastime, and the snow had already suffused all of Versailles, suffocating all in its path. And somehow a certain someone found herself before a court.

”Celestine Dacier, for counsel with the Internal Review Organization.”

Celestine Dacier didn’t exist anymore. She had long since reverted to her Spanish name. Celestia ‘Tia’ Bautista-Daijo hadn’t heard Dacier in a long time.  Few had. Any descendants of her estranged heritage had been lost. And any inclination to investigate them had faded. And indifference was never the issue. 

“Celestine Dacier?” the attendant called again. In a waiting room filled with bakers and tailors and tradespeople of all sorts, she stood out. Everyone else had been pale or pinkened. Emaciated or obese. Their clothes had been rags or uniforms, because they had little more than what they’d been wearing. The audience, intentional. 

She rose, in silence, the cerulean trail behind her left little forget-me-nots behind. The attendant was East Indian - the only other person of color in the entire compound. Their was hair tied up underneath a bejeweled turban, and their eyes were unfeeling. This place will do that to you. 

They led her through a door, and down a corridor of locked offices, until they reached a ‘throne-room’ of sorts.

“Are you not to bow in my presence?” Claude de Beauharnais, chairman of the board, resounded nasally. Technically he had no political office, no legitimate reason for his pompous demeanor, and no business prancing about in his truss as if he were the emperor himself. 

“Are you not to bow in mine?” She _would’ve_ hissed if it weren’t for her companion doing so for her. She calmed the creature, stroking her white coat. Would’ve seemed believeable if they both weren’t shooting daggers. 

“Do not cross me, child, fore I fear my pen sharpening itself against your tongue.” 

The fuck did that even mean? 

“Now, in regards to your business, Lycée Baptiste de Versailles, how can we assure your loyalty to the new regime?”

”I haven't the patience nor penchant for politics, Monsieur de Beauharnais. No regime will resolve my qualms.”

He scribbled on the clipboard, and the rest of the board followed. 

“Revenue reports since you took over operation indicate an upward trend, though stagnancy was seen during the Revolution. If you were to continue during the turn of the century, what can you say about market speculations in the future, the next ten-twenty years or so?”

She paused. 

The only other woman in the room smirked, nudging the gentleman beside her with her knee.

”Based on statistics, we can estimate a two-hundred-percent increase in profits from the peak. Double the amount of customers, due to the continuation of contracts from the ancien régime, members of the new system of heraldry, as well as current connections to the House of Bonaparte, much like yourselves. Said increase should earn around $70 million francs per year.” 

An amused, if not somewhat startled Monsieur de Beauharnais twitched his nose before pursing his lips to speak. Instead a small blonde child, no more than ten ran towards the ends of his truss, squealing and giggling while her governess followed panting and out of breath. 

“Papa - guess what I did with Anais - guess!” She practically bounced the entire time. 

“Steph - I’m in a meeting, princese, perhaps-“ Beauharnais stuttered. 

“Oh, it is _no_ problem, Monsieur, your daughter is quite refreshing.”

The girl - Stéphanie, She presumed, turned towards her , noticing the prescence of others in the room. She paused a bit before walking cautiously towards me. “Is that a cat?” She stared at the ornery creature cradled in Tia’s arms. 

“Why, yes, would you like to pet her?” 

She excitedly hurried towards me before remembering her manners. “Oh.” She curtsied, before continuing to rush towards Celestia. 

“Stephanie, dearest, that is not necessary, she’s only a-“ her father began before she cut him off. “Nonsense, Papa, _ladies_ curtsy. _Always_.” She paused gracefully before rushing to her former speed. She had gained far too much momentum, and before Tia had the opportunity to return the gesture, she had been crashed into. 

“My apologies, Vueve Bautista,” Monsieur cringed. “My daughter has been found to be unruly at times.”

Stephanie hadn’t appeared to be listening - she was far too busy coddling Lucille.

”I do not see such within her. Curiosity, Cordiality, and most importantly, Potential. Potential that could be developed much faster in an environment that uplifts women. I see someone destined for greatness, and that woman cannot come to be in such conditions. Sciences, mathematics, principles of government, literature, and appreciation for the arts cannot be developed while wallowing in isolation.”

”And what would you suggest to remedy this? Since _clearly_ her governess has no control over her.”

”The both of them could attend the school - free of charge, of course, to prove the value of educating and enlightening young women in a setting that best fits them.”

The governess kept mumbling awkwardly, her eyes apologetic. 

“At this point, it’s definitely up for consideration. We shall deliberate. Before Mardi Gras, you shall receive word of our decision. You are dismissed.”  

Celestia smiled, rising. She curtsied towards the heiress, before exiting. Lucille followed closely behind, before hopping into her arms. 

 

 

 


	2. bow and arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still background/fluff, however important it may be for future events

 

She’s been through famines. Natural Disasters. Government reforms that seemed to wipe everyone meaningful in her existence from the face of the Earth, and yet this was the hardest hurricane she'd have to face.

They _would_ make the money - that was never an issue when it wasn’t wartime. She hadn’t exactly been able to pay her employees, during the Revolution - the currency changed so often, and it wasn’t worth nearly as much as it used to. She’d been reduced to giving away the majority of her wardrobe. And they stayed. When there was barely enough coal to light the fireplaces, they were huddled in one room, and they stayed. Surely they’d remain loyal now. 

This year she couldn’t afford to skimp out on anything if she were to maintain her place within the hierarchy. Three houses had been on top of Versailles for the past three hundred years. They were not in competition with one another. Shared customers. Shared girls, on occasion. Attended the same events, and hosted together. It was the others she was worried about. And had every right to be.

And still, in moments much like these, she returned to Gloria’s - you’ll hear more about her later - journals. The first if which, was a handbook on how to survive in the...industry. Very few failures had been made when following said guidelines, and it was the most calming connection to her recently departed mentor she had. 

Seemed as if they were written in such a manner to make the reader feel accustomed to said lifestyle. And they had, in a way. Gloria had detailed her experiences since the day she began mentoring Tia, leaving any possible questions to be had answered, and any musings made. 

_Well, if you think about it, it’s very much like Greek Mythology. Remember learning about the pantheon?_

_The goddesses Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena are especially important here, and have been the League’s inspiration for centuries._

_So, according to the Greeks, these goddesses had groups of followers - mostly women. Hera had the Hesperides, Aphrodite had Ourania and Pandemos, and Athena had devout followers, which we’ve labeled as the Polias._

_So, here, the leading Houses in our...industry, are the  House of Hesperides, the Orchards of Ourania-Pandemos, and the Palace of Polias._

_There are lesser houses that host events and maintain similar levels of upkeep for the most part. Those in good standing compete in the same events however, none of them have made any advancements in the past two hundred years. The exception being the Palace, which emerged circa 1437, and joined the ranks of the House, the Orchard, and the disgraced Paradise of Phaesphoria - which is to never regain its title. Doing so would upset the balance of good and evil within the universe, and subsequently end us all. Esperida and her slithering ways are not to be trusted._

_Ah, where were we? Yes, the rules. The maintenance of our current standing must be well kept. All of our girls must be of good grooming and hygiene, they must be trained in all fundamental subjects, and most importantly must be here of their own free will. It would not do us any good to lower our standards in the sake of self preservation. Secondly, we must be the victor - i.e. score first, second, or third - in the Palace’s Pageant, the Garden’s Grove Games, and our own test of influence at the House’s annual production. Finally, an increase of a minimum of two hundred thousand francs per year - this has been edited to reflect current inflation - and the girls must directly receive seventy-five percent or more of their wages. Any less instantly disqualifies all parties involved._

_*In the instance of a financial crisis of some sort which could potentially jeapordize our place in society, seek the Heart of Hesperides._

Heart? The center of the building is an enormous furnace, so that’s doubtful. It would definitely require further investigation.

Not at this moment, precisely, due to the impending doom that seemed to boil over right before her. Based on the screaming, Annette Petitmange. Age twenty three. Decent girl. Good background. B+ standing. Average.The powdered wig, porcelain faced type. The _exact_ sort to start an issue like this.

There'd been a bit of a commotion upstairs. Not uncommon when the school wasn’t in use, and the House wasn’t in business. After all, girls will be girls. Judging from the circle of girls surrounding Belfoir (and her poor roomate’s) room, it hadn’t been an arm-wrestling contest. Or a tiff on who stole who’s rouge. 

And suddenly, the scuffling stopped, and stares formed in Celestia’s direction. She headed up the staircase, silently, an army of eyes watching her every move. 

Annette squatted on the ground beside her roommate. Her opponent - clearly the victor - stood standoffishly, a bit in front of the crowd. 

The fluttering of her fan was the only sound. Tia turned around to head back downstairs, and an awfully embarrassed duo followed behind. She signed to Pearl before heading towards her office. 

Her right-hand had entered the fray, being bombarded with questions as she carried an unconscious Bénédicte Belfoir into a spare room, sending for a doctor. 

—————

“Doctor Allemande has made a preliminary examination. Bennie’s not going to see properly out of her eye again.”

Annette appeared to be unfazed. Her opponent’s eyes softened. 

“What’s going to happen to her?” She asked. It’d been Gloria’s niece, Dominique, her last remaining biological relative worth mentioning. 

“She’s not going to be able to work again. I will ensure that she’s taken care of here, and is able to complete her education, but if she ever decides to enter society, she’ll only be able to do so as someone’s wife or mother. Any opportunities for her sole success have been rendered nonexistent. Her life as she knows it is over.”

”What’s our punishment, Miss B?” Annette said softly, the brevity of her actions sinking in. 

“I’m not going to punish you at all, actually. I don’t believe adding additional responsibilities or increasing your schoolwork will change anything. Anything you’ve damaged or destroyed will be added to your tabs, of course, but I can’t see how any of this will turn things around.” She fluttered her fan again, turning in her chair so that it’s back faced the door. A silent dismissal for Petitmange.

Bautista followed, almost halfway out the door before Celestia stopped her. 

“Fuiste despedirte, Dominica?” 

“Ah, no, Tía.”

”I can’t give you special treatment, Dom. You already have privileges. You’re already in my good graces. Your actions don’t go without consequence, though.”

”You _are_ punishing me?”

”I’ve been considering you and Mireille’s request to cohabitate. You seem to be remorseful, so I won’t take that completely off the table. But you will prove to me and Bennie that there’s been a serious improvement in your character. I’ll delay it Six months. If I see significant progress, consider it yours. If not, I could always use some extra storage.”

”I won’t disappoint, T.”

”Neither will I.”


	3. salt in the wound

Giggling ceased to commence almost instantly. It wasn’t loud enough for a fight, or quiet enough for a threat. The entire crowd which took up the majority of the foyer and the staircase had began speaking in hushed tones. A cloaked guest, face hidden almost entirely from view seemed awfully familiar to the girls. 

Celestia had been in her office, preoccupied with paperwork, and Pearl had been sitting in Tia’s typical spot, surrounded with forms. She glanced at the visitor, as if she were expecting something resembling salutations. 

“What place of business is this?” 

“To many, a well.” Pearl began, pausing, “What do you wish?”

”To fulfill unfinished business with the granter of wishes.” 

In such time, one of the girls had discreetly knocked upon the study’s doors, making her aware of their guest. She descended upon the double staircase gracefully, as if she had been anticipating this moment for an eternity. Jacquard blue and gold fabric, plunging neckline, slightly short enough to bare a bit of ankle. Enough to make the dynamic of their relationship - past, or present - quite clear. Enough to arouse mild suspicion, but not so much as to form verbal opposition. The guest had anticipated said moment as well. It was almost as if they shared an unspoken bond. Perhaps they were privy to something private? Perhaps they had a secret to take to the grave. Speculation was not the purpose of inclusion. Actuality was. 

The sort of stranger bowed graciously, taking Tia’s hand. “What place of business is this?”

”To some, a temple.”

”Then, I seek confession.”

”If you seek an audience with me, you will do so privately.”

”Fine. You may have a moment to retrieve your coat, then.”

A misstep on their part. She fetched her coat, and followed swiftly behind before hesitating. “Do not expect my submission, stranger. I have been patient enough to entertain your request.”

”And I have been humble enough to entertain your antics.” 

“Touché. Know this, stranger-“

” _Stranger_? You speak as if you have not longed for my return.”

”You speak as if you had never left in the first place.”

The sort of stranger removed her hood, revealing a short slicked back pixie. She was Japanese - had on an official ambassador’s ensemble underneath, and spoke French quite fluently. If one were familiar with the environment at the time, they’d suggest that an ambassador had urgent business crossing half the globe to see someone. Seeing as that *someone* had yet to speak to her by name - suppose there was something best left unaddressed, at least in their opinion. 

“Tia, you know it was best for all of us.”

”Then what business have you in returning?”

”I heard what happened to Gloria. Figured it was as good a time as ever to return. Especially before the competition begins.”

”Suppose your prescence is needed, again. Have Pearl prepare your quarters.”

They stopped, after recircling back to the entrance.

“And where are you heading?”

”The Palace.”

“Alone, at this hour?“

” _I_ can take care of myself, you know. You get used to it after a while.”

”Why, that’s halfway across town.”

”Guess I’d better hurry up and leave, then.”

They had been the only ones outside at this hour. It was incredibly cold, and incredibly early. Two weeks until Christmastime, exactly. And the clock tower had rang for four in the morning. If anyone else had been awake at that hour, their secret rendezvous would’ve caused such suspicion. Rightfully so, considering the difficult tasks before them. Repairing the rift between them wasn’t anywhere near the forefront of their collective agendas. And yet, there was something left between them. Some sort of emotion conveyed between Tia’s farewell glance. Perhaps, contempt had been replaced, at least temporarily so, by something resembling love. But it was snowing too hard to see everything entirely. Maybe the  ‘stranger’ just had snow in her eyes.

But I could’ve sworn I saw something trickle down both of their cheeks. 

 


	4. independent women pt. 1

 

The Palace was quite a fitting title. An enormous golden gate surrounded an immensely grand estate. Being on such a high altitude, it appeared as if it was surrounded by immense fog at all times. 

Aforementioned fog was gorgeous....when you could see it. But so early in the morning, it became pitch black, blanketing the abyss.

And yet it seemed, almost as if from memory, Tia knew exactly which steps were safe, which stones would spiral down.

Upon reaching the grand entryway, she was practically yanked inside, as if one was being smothered to death by a bodybuilder, but gently enough to be endearing. 

“Oh, Tia, you finally came!” she was squeezed (and squished) into a hug by a six foot tall goddess.

“Bean, do you realize how cold it is over here?”

” _Sorry_ ,” Sabine shut the grandiose doors before grabbing Celestia’s hand and sprinting down the stairs. Past a thousand identical corridors, all of which contained various frescoes, and statues, and armor from historical battles participated in by Sabine’s ancestors. 

When they reached the clandestine meeting place, hidden behind a secret passage within the wine cellar, parchment littered the floor in large piles. Out of the hundreds of thousands of sheets in that room, one mattered most of all. The Century Scroll, drafted after the current houses celebrated their first century in power, back in medieval times. The parchment had that aged aroma about it, like all things old and good, was loved in. The writing was legible underneath the looking glass, and the map just as clear as the day of its creation. 

“Tia,” the cloaked figure from the opposite end (if roundtables had ends, that is) of the table emerged, pretend pecking her cheek before receiving the same. 

“Gia, how’s it looking?” T began, setting down her coat on the back of her chair before finding the nearest bottle of bourbon.

“The lesser houses ‘ave already started their campaigns. We’re looking at Brauronian Brooks,” Georgia opened an elongated trinket box, filled with chess-sized icons for each of the houses. She placed a small ice blue teardrop on the battlefield of sorts beside the spot in which the Eure and the Seine converge. 

“The Eleusinians started out strong but seem to be withering,” she put a tiny wheat-like structure on the outer edges on the palatial gardens. “Seems the new nobility ‘aven’t taken well to solicitation...” she smirked as if it was her own doing. Knowing Gia, she wouldn’t hesitate to remove competition legally.

“And... _it’s_  back again.” she retrieved a skulllike object, setting it on the board. “Deipnon’s devoured almost all the smallest houses. Blaise, Mathilde, Vignetta...as well as any trace of their existence have all been eliminated, and—“ she stopped short.

”And?” Tia raised a brow, taking a rather large sip from the bottle. 

“And Honore is in bed with the new chief of police.” Bean continued, pouring herself a glass. 

“We simply can’t allow her to rejoin our ranks. Acknowledging all sorts of treachery validates _it_.” 

“So, what do you propose we do to stop _her_?”

”Mardi Gras begins around the end of the month. We’ll participate in the parade and have an afterparty in which we encourage the patrons to support our businesses.” 

“And how are the three of us to receive a permit? Bean’s husband’s nursing the wounded and-“

”What about yours?”

”We’re separating. Permanently.” Bean squeezed her hand without crushing it.

”Leave it to me, then.” Tia shrugged. 

“Your husband husband’s in Moscow with his beau, and your partner...”

”Has returned.” Tia gulped enough liquor to let a coursing burning sensation develop within her heart.

”But I have other ways to go about securing the means.”

 

 


	5. you told me this and i quote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there’s some real conflicts with the plot in AB18 and HRIS97%MG (the original) that’ll b explained below: 
> 
> White (Will’s) relationship with Blue (Tia) is completely consensual in this version and they don’t have any angst or abuse or anything. While her separation from Yellow (Yuki) is consistent in this AU, theres no non-con between the diamonds as imo we could use stronger queerer relationships in historical fiction fanfics.  
> -this has been my TEDXTalk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, white (Will’s) genderqueer but since 17-1800s France didn’t have a word for that, I still use gender neutral pronouns and their appearance is androgynous and their demeanor is more masculine than anything else.

“Gracing me with your presence, I see?” a tall, thin frame began. Their bleached white ear-length hair parted in the middle, suitjacket and leather loafers had all of Versailles convinced that they had been first born son of the retired Chief of Police turned Magistrate. The one painting from before they had rid themselves of the hassles attached with their fleeting feminity had been destroyed long ago. 

“If you don’t mind?” Tia set down her cloak before heading behind her partner in crime’s chair. She leaned over their shoulders, placing her hand on top of theirs, interlacing their fingers. “Of course you’re always welcome, though I prefer consistency.” they squeezed back, closing whatever legal documents lay before them. 

“I am assuming you’ve graced me with your prescence for a purpose?”

”I _did_ miss you, darling, but I happen to need a permit for this month’s Mardi Gras parade, and if you would be _so_ kind, future Magistrate, I-“

”Technically, the announcement isn’t until the dinner next Saturday. In exchange for my early acceptance, which I intend on holding onto, you will be in attendance, Agreed?”

”Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tia pecked her cheek.

Upon receiving  ~~Wilhelmina’s~~ _Will’s_ signature, T inspected the document before beaming, leaving teeny kisses of appreciation all across their chin and neck and upper trapezius. “As entertaining as this is, your appreciation is needed elsewhere,” 

“All you had to do was ask,” Tia took firm hold of Will’s hand, leading them to their quarters and shutting the door behind them. 

———

Sleeping here had been too comfortable for too long, and yet it almost always seemed as if it wasn’t near long enough. Six years Yukari had returned to her home, and the first was spent wallowing in self pity and angst and- this was before Will and Tia had edited the terms of their friendship to include physical pursuits- Will opened their home, providing love and reassurance and comfort, all of which were unhealthily attractive. They both were well aware of this, and as all things attractive, the idea of ending their tryst, or whatever one would call such relations, was out of sight and out of mind.

On this particular occasion, Tia happened to rise hours before morning tea and breakfast, hours before the sun had even come close to brightening the grayed skies. She turned over, before popping in the bath, Will’s copper tub was far more immense than that of the porcelain ones back at the House.

When she returned, dressed in whatever garments she’d left over at their last encounter, which happened to be a rather darling blue-grey satin ensemble. Will was still resting, evident through the tiny dribble of drool still on their cheek. 

She cupped the intersection between their neck and chin, pressing her lips to it and murmuring something in hushed Spanish, not that their partner would have understood anyways. A drowsy Will placed their hand atop of Tia’s momentarily, before retracting under the covers. Tia had made it halfway towards the door before turning back towards her partner.

“Did you want me to say that I loved you?” Will blinked.

_”Cela va sans dire”_

 


	6. mindless sex is how he heals

“Morning, Pearl, how‘s the schedule looking for today?”

”You would know if spent the night here, for once.”

”Are you calling me a _whore_ , Miss Dansereau?”

”D, Miss Bautista?” 

“In case you forgot, even for a split second, I am and always will be an entrepreneur, a perpetuator of the world’s oldest profession, and an expert in the anatomy of all sexes. So, _yes_ , I am a whore. Not because I’ve been thought to be one, but because I have complete control over myself and my—”

”Not today you don’t, Knocært’s got you booked all day.” Pearl closed the newspaper, turning a scribbled schedule towards Tia.

”All day? How much could he possibly get out of tying me up for eight hours? It’s quite nice for less than two, but once David’s  got the time to think about all the things he can do now that he has reestablished a human connection, it’s as if he’s gone mad!”

”You enjoy your madman, that’s nearly two thousand francs—two weeks of honeyed hams in the ovens and timber in the furnace for temporary discomfort.”

”Suppose it’s not nearly as bad as I’ve made it out to be, once you get past all the bondage and everything, he’s far sweeter than Lefebvre and Thibault and their rowdy bunch.”

”You going to eat before you leave?”

”I find I handle things better on an empty stomach. He always has something nice for me.”

 —

Knocært was quite different than the majority of her clients. Younger, mid-thirties, but the pallor of his skin was blinding and the dark circles around his deep, soulful eyes were distracting. He wasn’t unattractive, per se. Extinguished, is all.

She often thought of how gorgeous he’d be as a girl. Dainty features, thin muscular frame and the cutest set of pursed lips were incredibly effeminate. If he’d been a bit more conscious of his clothing, she’d have suspected they shared similar interests in individuals of the same sex. 

He’d only started calling for her after his Elaine passed. No children. He was far too boring to attract any younger women and far too queer to find anyone his own age. But he was a nice man. Emotionally distraught, of course, but probably the closest thing Tia ever had to a male friend.  

His estate wasn’t completely different than any others, bar  the fact that it stood in almost complete isolation, surrounded by dense, dead woods and marshland. He didn’t own slaves or hire any servants. Aside from the multitudes of birds he kept, he was utterly alone.

”I didn’t think you’d come.” he stared blankly out the window, into the darkened sky. Teeny tea sandwiches sat untouched next to a pitcher of cider. His reddened eyes were glazed over, as if his loneliness was sincere.

“You booked me, didn’t you? You asked and I answered.”

He smiled softly, awkwardly, before taking a big gulp of brandy, and unlacing the back of her corset. Layer after layer unfolded so rapidly she needn’t have had them on in the first place. 

But she hadn’t intended on spending her Saturday morning being humped while staring at the intricate painting of medieval warfare on Knocært’s ceiling. 

It wasn’t entirely unenjoyable, he was well-endowed and moderately skilled.

If it hadn’t been so early? If she hadn’t been surviving on an empty stomach for the next eight hours? If the night before had been less pleasurable?

If the fresco hadn’t been such a great likeness of Knocært’s naked great-great-great grandmother swimming through the Seine, perhaps she’d been a bit more focused. But her breasts were plump and firm, and she was a pale, raven-haired temptress, who seemed like she’d have been far more exhilarating than her descendant. 

He paid thousands for this experience, and somehow, managed to maintain his emotionally hollow appearance while _physically_ enjoying things.  He couldn’t call out her name into curled fistfuls of satin sheets. There was an inevitable air of tension and emotional distress on his part that probably couldn’t have been resolved through mindless physical encounters.

Such a void was only possible through a great loss, likely related to the large urn of ashes beside them, the enormous portrait of his late wife on the left wall, and the love letters tucked away in a box on their right. 

But what do I know? I’m only a narrator.

 

 

 


	7. they say “you’re a liability, you’re a little much for me”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In preparation for Mardi Gras, our aroused bawds are losing their sanity in one form or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up: this is gonna b a hot mess

“ _Husbands_. What where they good for, anyways?” Sabine thought to herself, as she swirled a glass of red wine.  “And what could be worse than the ones that fall of the face of the Earth?”

“The ones that come back from the dead.”

”Sabine?” an familiar voice called out from the front entrance. It was significantly older woman’s voice, weathered with the pressures of poverty. It’d been the head of housekeeping, Missus Marion Fabron—probably attempting to bring in this week’s groceries all on her own.

Bean rushed towards the doors, propping them both open. To her surprise, Marion had not been lugging around crates of herbs and fresh produce. She’d struggled to hold up Sabine’s husband, who hadn’t been seen since the war. Suddenly every emotion imaginable rushed towards her, and all at once and everyone began to flurry about her, as she entered a daze.

A male servant—Edmund, by the looks of it, ran towards Mrs. Fabron, to help bring in the staggering man of the house. One of the girls kept shouting out “He’s here! He’s back!” as she ran up and down the marble halls. The rest filed out from their rooms, surrounding the stiff, babbling and making a scene. 

“Can you believe it, Sabby?” Marion grabbed her by the shoulders—as close as she could get, being so short, that is—shaking her violently.

”No...I really can’t,” she mumbled as she was ushered towards the armchair across from him. 

“Girls,” Marion began, trying to capture the attention of the twenty-three rowdy young ladies surrounding Charles, “ _GIRLS_ ,” she bellowed, “I believe they’d like some alone time.” Gradually, each one left. 

“I expect you have many questions,”

” _I_ expect you wouldn’t have disappeared for such a long time—but” Sabine began, before rethinking. “How are you, Charles?”

”You haven’t asked me that in twenty years of marriage or four of courting.”

”Really, how are you?”

”As best as a man can be, knowing he’s a cripple. Knowing he’s a haggard shell of youth, a sign of fleeting manhood. Knowing he’s missed a great portion of his woman’s life, knowing he’s incapable of caring for himself, that he can’t walk to the chamber pot, that he can’t frolic in the fields, that he can’t feel anything from below his waist, that he is no longer a man—“ He paused. ”But how are _you_ , Sabine?”

”As best as a woman can be, Charles.” She was emotionally exhausted upon his arrival. Unnoticed by her associates, she was a frazzled husk of herself. Isolated, depressed, miserable. He left and she latched her heart onto someone else, and of course they didn’t return the same feelings, and one of her girls had lost a baby and another contracted an illness, and one of Marion’s sons was mutilated in a carriage accident so she couldn’t manage things for the longest time and— _Oh_ how things just piled up on top of one another to the point where even _thinking_ of them was a strain. 

”I know there’s much to discuss, but we have all the time in the world to catch up, Sabby.”

”Don’t kid yourself, Charlie.” She rose.

“Is there someone else?”

”I don’t know how to answer that,”

”The hell do you mean ‘you don’t know how to answer that’—there is or there isn’t!”

”I told you, I don’t know how to answer that.”

”And I told you that I’m not accepting that. So you answer to me, or you answer before the court.”

” _Fine_ , _you want the truth_? _I’ll_ _give you the truth_. I care for you, Charles, I care about you Charles, and I always have cared about you, Charles—but I’m in love with someone else. And it pains me to say that I never loved you, but I don’t love you in that way...I never could love you in that way...”

”Who is he?” All the darkness residing in the belly of his soul was visible to her then. Agony and hatred and wrath and all things cold and dead and dark poured out of him.

” _She’s—“_

” _‘She?’_ ‘She’s’—She’s what, got you _all_ brainwashed now with all that—that sapphic passion, with all that—that blasphemy? What are you a tribadist now? Is that what you and your little...’lesbian’ lover—since that’s what you all call yourselves—have been up to all these years, while I’ve been fighting for France?— _Is It_?”

”I thought _you_ , of all people would understand,”

”All that was just talk..Years ago. _Just talk_ , _I_ never acted on any of it, _I’m_ the saint— _I_ never—“

”You shut up, or the girls’ll hear y-“

”I _won’t_! I won’t be shut up until you answer me, for Christ’s sake! Are you a—a lesbian now?” 

“I’m not a lesbian _now_...I always have been. And I always will be!” She plopped back onto the couch, all of the great magnitude of emotions building up inside of her released, all the energy dispelled from her frame.

The girls had already left their quarters and gathered around the staircase in an unfamiliar silence.

”What the hell you’d marry me for, anyways?” 

“I _love_ you, that’s why. It’s just not the same, it’s not—and I _never_ acted on any of the things we talked about. That doesn’t mean I haven’t felt _them_. And it wasn’t because you abandoned us for ten years, I just _know_ she couldn’t possibly feel the same. _She couldn’t possibly_ —Burn me at the stake if you wish, Charles. Wrap me in chains and drop me in the Channel. Stone me to death for all I care—run around town shouting that I’m a witch, that I’m devil-spawn and that I’ve defied every decree the Lord has given us, I’ll admit to every single crime—because I am _done_ hiding.”

”I’m not going to report you. Or commit you to a hospital. But I can’t deal with this right now.”

”The hell do you mean ‘you can’t deal with this right now’? I’m your wife for Christ’s sake! This land and everything and everyone on it belongs to me. So unless you want to ‘deal with this right now’ you can piss yourself and lie in it, because not a soul will be there to save you from yourself.”

”You _can’t_ understand what this feels like, Sabine, you have to be more understanding!”

” _More_ understanding?—you were the first one to mention being interested in—“

”ENOUGH!” Marion shouted from the top of the staircase, forcefully ushering the girls back into their rooms. “If you are going to settle this, you are going to do it quietly and you are going to do it elsewhere!”

”She’s right, you know,” Charles glanced towards Sabine, with a deep, depressed void in his dark eyes. 

“I-Would you like to take a walk? The weather’s cleared up. We used to take walks after rains like this. Would you like one—just for old time’s sake? I’ll push you in the bath-wheelchair if you wish,”

”I’d like that,” he said, gazing out into the muggy remnants of that afternoon’s sun-shower. 

—————

“It’s much too cool out for this sort of discourse,” Georgiana plumped the the blonde tresses about her face. She rose quickly, shoving a gazillion and one trinkets and assorted types of junk into a knapsack. 

“Much too cool? It was just pleasant as can be when you were with the Sibset brothers. Or did you prefer the weather with Bréhat, or Dieudonne or perhaps it was Lavoie? Need I go on?”

”You needn’t—you know that’s my job. This is my _work_. I’m not like you. I don’t get to choose—or flit between careers. I don’t go out saying I think I might be a baker and come home a blacksmith! I don’t change on a whim. That cigar you’re smoking, _I_ paid for it. This house you live in, the bed you lay in? All of it belongs to me. Perhaps if you supported my independence, rather than shamed it, you’d be a bit more appreciative of that.”

”Gigi-“

”Don’t ‘ _Gigi_ ’ me,” she quoted him, mockingly. “Don’t sigh and act coy and ruffle your little curls and... _and_  we’re separating, Jacques. There can’t be another way out of this, and that’s final.”

”You simply cannot just toss me out into the street—where will I go, how will I—“

”That’s simply not my problem anymore, Jacques. I have to go, but when I return, I expect you to be out of here.”

”You’ll come crawling back to me eventually, Geeg. You’ll see. You _need_ m—“

”I _need_ to get out of here. And you _need_ time to pack.” She huffed, slamming the door behind her. 

Outside, a deep magenta-colored carriage awaited her. The black horses in front whinnied before she placed a reaffirming hand on their muzzles. 

She sat in silence for the longest time. She hadn’t had any appointments scheduled or errands to run. Instead she found herself at Sabine’s. 

—————

 “That was the most imbecilic, unintelligent act I have ever known you to commit.” Tia slammed her hands on the table, rustling the nearest corner of the Scroll. 

“Like you can talk!” Gigi harrumphed back.

”Our situations are completely different, and you know that. My husband is has no interest whatsoever in women, and both of us recognized it to be a marriage of a different kind convenience—a private legal signing off so that he could continue his travels with his lover, and I could have a very grand public wedding with Yukari without losing any of my worldly possessions.” Tia began.

“You, on the other hand, married Jacques because you loved him. Jacques is not like Charles, he’s not going to see reason. He doesn’t understand reason, he’s only good for one thing, and conversation isn’t it. He will bring you to court, Gia. I don’t want to see you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she continued, placing a reaffirming hand atop Georgiana’s.

”So...uhh, did you fall out of love? Is there someone else? My intentions aren’t to pry, but there are very few women who just up and leave...” Bean mentioned as nonchalantly as possible for someone with an intense crush.

”I care about him, I’ll always care about him, I just don’t see myself—my future including him. Twenty years ago, I would’ve said I expected us to be married with children—but Mother chose me to take over instead of my sister, and that completely shifted things. And now, I’m with child, and I just don’t see him—“

”Pardon? You’re expecting...” Bean began

”Uh huh,” 

”A child...”

”Uh huh,”

”To pop out of your—“

”Not how it works, but yes, Bean. Haven’t been on the rag for three months now, and I had to leave before he realized.”

”Has he hit you?” Tia enquired.

”No, I just don’t think he’d be a good fit for fatherhood.”

”Whose is it?” Bean asked, _praying_ that Gia hadn’t been seeing anyone else.

”Its his, from a temporary slip-up a few months back when our separation was on hiatus. I intend to keep this child, I just don’t need him in my life to do so.”

”If it’s his, you have no right to strip him of that when he hasn’t proven himself unfit for it.”

”She’s got a point, G.”

”It’s my womb, it’s my choice, I want your support, not your advice, Tia.”

”Fine, you want to raise it, I’ll do everything I can to support you, even if I disagree. It’d be different if you were considering getting rid of it, but I suppose in any event, it is your womb—rather, it will be, once you sign the divorce papers.” Tia concluded.

”Divorce papers? I thought I could just say ‘Jacques, we’re through.’ And he’d leave, and we’d be done.”

”Good lord, this girl has never experienced the real world. No, they passed some new laws a decade or so ago. You’d have to prove abuse, adultery, or extreme grievances but—“ Bean was interrupted halfway through her spiel.

”Then it shall be no problem. We’ll go to court immediately, and I’ll tell them that I’ve adultered more than they’ve never seen before.”

”To go to court, you need a lawyer. And a judge that isn’t terribly misogynistic.”

”Oh. I sleep with Maçon regularly, so he can represent me in court. And Tia, I would be forever in your debt, if you visited your friends in high places? I can’t promise Will can preside over your case, but I _can_ ask if there are any  judges willing to rule in your favor in exchange for some monetary compensation.”

”Where are you getting all this new money from? You know it’s tens of thousands of francs minimum to bribe anyone worth bribing.”

”That sounds incredibly illegal. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable following through with it.”

” _Oh, please_ , our livelihoods are illegal. Anyways, I don’t have ‘all this new money’ I can make it up to Will in other ways.”

”Speaking of, how serious do you think things are?”

”Just as serious as they’ve always been, why?”

”It’s been several years now, that your relations have been known. You think she’ll propose?”

” _Them? Propose?_ Why, Gia, it doesn’t take a genius to tell they have no interest in such endeavors.”

”Do you?”

”My marriage is an unhappy one in shambles, my wife disappeared for half a decade and we haven’t been in contact up until a few months ago when she showed up at my doorstep, but for some reason still can’t hold a conversation with me so—If that didn’t answer your question, I have no interest in marrying will, just as they have none in marrying me. And evidenced by my wife leaving me, and my husband never having interest in me at all, I’ve decided I’m just not cut out for marriage.”

”Don’t say that, T. Yuki’ll be ready to talk eventually.” Bean smiled softly,

”Actually, I like her and Will better. Something about being whisked away, spoiled and _actually_ enjoying nighttime activities sounds so attractive to me,” Gigi daydreamed.

”But what about romance? Everlasting love that transcends time apart. Isn’t that what life’s really all about?”

”Did you accidentally take snuff again, Bean? ‘Cause _ooh_ , you are spewing utter nonsense.”

”How can love possibly be nonsense?” Bean mused, posing dramatically with the curtain.

”Awfully profound for someone who’s never been in it before.” Gia rolled her eyes. 

“Just because I don’t enjoy the company of men doesn’t mean I haven’t been in love before.”

”You’ve been in the company of women?”

” _Well, no_ —not yet—“

” _Ooh_ , I’ve got to use the potty, but when I get back, you’ll tell me all about this mystery girl.” Gigi ran upstairs to the loo. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Bean buried her face in her hands. 

“Oh, Beany-baby, just tell her how you feel,”

”It’s going to be so awkward, Tia. She hasn’t given me the slightest inclination that she’s interested in women, let alone me. Besides, if she was, it’d be queer. _Just queer_.”

”And that’s exactly how I felt about Will all those years ago, and look at me now, having a terribly good time in my extramarital affair, being spoiled regularly, and—“

”You know I don’t approve—Yuki and you were so happy before the accident, traveling regularly-enough to maintain a steady business while exploring the world together. I’d rather have romance than anything in this world.”

” _Oh really_...” Tia smirked, just as Gia returned from her bathroom break. “So, we’ve been talking—and Bean’s offered to let you stay at hers for a while, at least until your case is brought to court.”

”Really Bean? I won’t take your kindness for granted—I’ll be sure to make it up to you,”

”In more ways than one,” Tia spoke under her breath just loud enough for Bean to hear while wiggling her eyebrows. Sabine spat out all of her beverage claiming to have choked.

 

Fortunately Celestia had prophesied correctly—even if it did take Sabine and Georgiana a little longer to realize that...

 

 

  

 


End file.
